Then he slapped his hand on his desk and looked up with the air of a man struck by a brilliant idea. "You're only twenty—not legally of age. "Hark 'ee, Ben," said the old sailor, knocking the ashes from his pipe upon the hob; "you may try, but dash my timbers if you'll ever cross the Thames to-night. ” “How dull you are,” the lady remarked. But not a word to him of Lady Trafford's absence—mind that. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. His manner was deferential, even eager. One is always familiar with the business of one’s neighbours. "Ah! but," said I, "there's a great deal in being hanged. "But you mustn't indulge these gloomy thoughts. " "That's impossible," replied Jack. “Do you play an instrument?” “I play the fiddle sometimes.
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